


Fire and Water

by Critique_Masochist



Series: Fire and Water Series [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel/Demon Relationship, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I am not a professional psychologist but i wrote a thing, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, just saying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-09 12:39:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19476103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Critique_Masochist/pseuds/Critique_Masochist
Summary: Crowley confesses that seeing the bookshop burn down has maybe kind of really fucked him up.Aziraphale confesses to a secret of his own.





	Fire and Water

The bookshop had been a fiery inferno. It had been tainted black with ash and smoke and glowing with hellish fire; singeing his skin and tearing the last bits of sanity he had left apart.

He remembered the burning of his lungs and how he had chocked on his angel’s name, how fire rained from the sky, hissed and jumped at him from every direction, aiming only to hurt.

His angel was **_dead_** , or so he had thought. Died in the fire, which was a seemed so painfully logical to Crowley at the time, like it had been divinely planned from the very start. Aziraphale loved books and had surrounded his entire living space with those lovely, old smelling, cursed, flammable things. Crowley should have seen it coming, should have known that it would end like this all along.

It was fate.

It was horrible, twisted, agonising fate.

The bookshop was there, where it had always been, in a vaguely same state. Some of the books were different, apparently, but Crowley couldn’t tell. It all felt very much like a self-indulgent delusion, the way he came back to this place every day to find it in a perfectly normal condition with a perfectly safe and happy angel inside.

Like nothing had ever happened.

With everything being undone, technically nothing had happened but that didn’t matter one bit.

Crowley had seen what COULD happen. He had felt it and it had shaken him to his very core. And the mere thought that… at any moment, for no reason at all, it could happen again? It would drive anyone mad.

And so, the demon came back there daily, to reaffirm that everything was fine, that the one person he cared about was absolutely not _dead_ and that he was just worrying for no reason. Because he was worrying A LOT.

And after 4 bottles of delicious wine he had finally managed to tell Aziraphale exactly all of that. The angel’s face reflected the constant anxious feeling throbbing in his chest quite well.

“Dear?” he said, sounding a lot more sober than he had before. “You’ve been… I didn’t know that… why did you wait three months to tell me you felt this way?”

“Angel, don’t you know us? It took us 6000 years to-“ and he motioned vaguely at everything around him. “come to this point.” He finished lamely. He was too drunk to make sense but not drunk enough to confess that he was immensely enjoying their newfound relationship.

“Besides.” He continued after a long pause, there was a distinctly sombre tone in his voice. “I highly doubt that you would agree to leave your stupid bookshop just for my sake.”

The angel frowned. He loved his home and there were many reasons why he was and would be completely safe here, from any fire. He was a supernatural entity, after all.

“Dear, I could invest in sprinklers and a fire extinguisher, if it makes you feel any better.” The angel said soothingly.

The suggestion felt like cool wind against a hot open wound.

“’s nice but not good enough.” Crowley decided. “But nice.”

“Don’t use that word, you’re scaring me.” the angel said, clearly shaken. Gently, he got up from his armchair and placed himself at the edge of Crowley’s couch. He nudged the drunk demon into a sitting position and offered a hug.

Crowley couldn’t say no to Aziraphale.

It had taken Aziraphale some time to get Crowley used to touch. Probably due to being a demon, he had never been hugged a lot and he had flinched away and hissed the first few times the angel had attempted the feat. But slowly and over a few months, good had won and the demon had been tamed. Only after that had they been able to kiss.

Aziraphale scolded himself for being so focused on wine and dinner and kisses that he had not noticed the poor boy’s distress.

He held the demon firmly, not squeezing but holding him close. It was enough to make Crowley finally give in, his breathing became more uneven and he was clearly holding back tears but still-

“They tried to burn you up in heaven too.” He pointed out.

“Oh, hush, nobody is burning me. I have wings and miracles and I have you, nobody would dare burn down MY bookshop, especially now that they think I’m immune to hellfire.”

“They sell lighters everywhere now.” Crowley took in a shaky breath. “And _everybody_ smokes.”

“You have been smoking too, haven’t you, dear? Have you been stressing about this?”

The demon shrugged and Aziraphale pulled him closer. They spend a few quiet moments just holding each other. Listening to the angels heartbeat somewhat put him at ease. He wiped away the few tears that had dared to come out and breathed out slowly.

“Is there anything else that triggers you like this?” the angel asked and… well, there was.

And It really hurt to admit. No, he couldn’t. He curled up his fingers and tried to reason with himself, even if it was stupid it would probably help with the ache in his chest if he just admitted it right now. He felt the angel moving his hand up and down his back soothingly and decided that he must have started shaking again. He did that sometimes, although smoking helped.

“That sound…” he started and stopped. No, it was stupid and childish and it was driving him crazy but he would NOT admit it.

“Crowley.” The angel said encouragingly.

“No, there’s nothing wrong with it.” The demon decided. “It’s just me.”

“ _Crowley_.”

“Really, I’m just being an idiot. I mean, there’s no way that- I mean, you could just teleport, like you did back then.”

“Dear, please.”

“I know I’m being unreasonable.”

“Crowley, what noise are you talking about?” there was clear worry in the angel’s voice and Crowley thought that maybe it sounded like he was hearing things; which was much worse than what was actually bothering him.

“That sound your stove makes, every time you prepare tea.” He said, finally.

It was as if he had forced the words out of his mouth and they left him breathless, weak and exhausted. Tears were running wild, adding to the utter shame he felt.

He felt worthless. Delusional. Felt that he shouldn’t be given hugs for something so absolutely pathetic. He wasn’t a child; he was a DEMON who had been around since the bloody beginning of time! He had been hunted, almost burned at the stake-twice and he had driven his car through a thick wall of fire once; he shouldn’t be this unsettled by the sounds that OVENS MAKE.

He escaped Aziraphale’s touch and scooted away from him on the couch. If he could, he would have slithered under the couch, phased through the floor and hidden somewhere in the deep warm depths of hell for at least a month.

He tried to wipe away the unseemly sight of his leaking eyes but it was too late. What had been said had been said and… heard. No doubt that the angel had seen him crying as well.

“Sometimes,” the angel hummed, pulling Crowley out of his thoughts. “when it rains… I feel like you’re just going to sizzle away…”

He paused and there was absolute silence.

“Melt into nothing… and leave me all alone and it scares me. It’s why I always try to shield you from it.” He looked at Crowley. “Always.”

The demon stared.

All this time.

All of this time and Azzy had never told him that.

“And then you fucking dare and call ME out on keeping shit to myself!” the demon shouted, teary eyed.

Aziraphale laughed genuinely.

“And I wouldn’t just melt away!” he hissed. “I would cause the biggest ruckus ever! The earth would shake with the force of my cursing!”

The angel buckled up giggling incoherently and Crowley allowed himself to feel just a little bit of pride at the sight.

“That’s very true, why did I never think of that?” The angel sighed happily.

“Let’s not think.” He waved his hand and the empty bottles bubbled and filled themselves back up with wine.

“Oh? Did you sober up too?” the angel asked, unsure when it had happened.

“I wanted to remember that hug.” Crowley admitted. The thin smile on Aziraphale’s lips grew wider, he would definitely remember those sweet words for a few thousand years. “But let’s… let’s just go back to drinking. Let’s just be normal. I want some normal.”

“Oh dear, sorry.” The angel said sheepishly. “I’m afraid I can only allow myself one more glass.”

“Only one more?” the demon pouted and Aziraphale realized that his wineglass was slowly growing in size.

“Crowley, stop that!” he giggled. “Yes, I’m sure, I just want to think.”

“Nooo… don’t.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t be long.”

“Right…”

Crowley did not want to think, he was too busy thoroughly appreciating the little relief he felt at finally opening up. Everything that had been haunting him inside had been said and although he now knew that his angel was keeping secrets from him just like he was, he didn’t care.

So what?

It would be fine, surely.

They would deal with the fire and then they could talk about the water. Crowley didn’t like the rain anyway and it would be fine.

With a bit of luck, the angel would invest in something, anything fire extinguishing related and that would be the end of that. It would be fine.

He chugged down his first glass. This was NOT how one was supposed to drink wine. He wasn’t being elegant enough, not stylish enough, and this wine deserved to be treated with respect and dignity. He filled up another glass and tapped on it twice with his finger, turning the beautiful red liquid into a rough golden brown.

Now this, he could chug down.

“Wouldn’t sprinklers ruin the books though…?” Aziraphale thought aloud.

The irony made Crowley giggle. “Wouldn’t sprinklers ruin the books!” he mocked. “Not as much as _fire_.”

“I’m sorry.” the angel noted the pained expression on his friends face and made a mental note to not make Crowley talk about the fire.

It went on for a while, the demon getting drunk all over and the angel pondering what could be done about book flammability. At some point, roughly around Crowley’s 5th wine-glass sized Whiskey-shot, the angel snapped his fingers.

“I’ve got it!”

“Yesss…” Crowley hissed, swaying slightly. “Whisskey is ssstronger than wine…”

“No, not that, although, yes.” He said, looking a tad concerned. “But, that’s not what I meant. I just realized that I could just fireproof my books!”

Crowley stared; his expression was identical to a first-year college student who had skipped just a few linear algebra classes. Aziraphale rolled his eyes and did a small demonstration for his lobotomised friend by getting a book and hugging it.

“Am I sss’pposed to imagine myssself being ‘at book?” Crowley slurred.

“I learned I could do this when the witch hunts first started.” The angel explained. “Whenever they got an innocent woman, I prayed that the wood wouldn’t catch fire, just like this.”

“Did ‘u hug the ssstake?” Aziraphale blushed a bit much to Crowley’s surprise. Now he couldn’t help but picture the sight in his mind. Azzy hugging a stake, what a silly thought… It was cute though, mainly because his angel was involved.

“Do you have a lighter?” the angel dodged.

Of course. Despite only very recently picking up smoking Crowley was already smoking an entire packet every day (which was probably not healthy, even for a demon). Of course, he had a lighter but he wasn’t quite drunk enough to just hand it over, no questions asked. He was only drunk enough to hand it over, questions asked!

“Too much alcohol.” He said, flailing his hand around. “You sssure?” and Aziraphale decided that maybe he had a point.

Probably not intentional but a point nonetheless. There was a lot of alcohol everywhere. Crowley wasn’t kidding, the more he thought about it, the more he noticed how this whole bookshop was a fire trap.

“Crowley…” the angel sighed, trying to decide whether he should demonstrate this tomorrow or-  
“Nevermind.” He decided.

The confused Crowley fidgeted with his glass, too drunk to really understand much of what was going on. He was aware that there was book cuddling involved somehow andfor some reason the thought of that sent nervous shivers down his spine.

He flinched slightly when he felt the angel embracing him once more, this time a lot more lovingly rather than desperately.

It was a nice pure feeling, which made sense. It all made sense now. This was how it was all supposed to be all along. From the beginning of time, the whole _fire_ thing, aaaall just to get cuddled. Honestly that made about as much sense as a botched apocalypse.

“It’s going to be fine.” The angel reassured.

“It already isss…” Crowley decided, snuggling closer to his too sober companion. “You’re sssafe.”

“Are you always this sweet when you’re drunk?” the angel mused. Maybe he should drink less and just watch Crowley, although watching Crowley was usually what Aziraphale did when they got drunk anyway.

“Nicely diabolical.” The angel said, watching his friends confused reaction at the words.

“I’m not niccce.” He finally decided, although there was absolutely none of the fierce energy in his voice that he usually used whenever Aziraphale insulted him like that. He hissed weakly, his flicking tongue tickling the angel’s nose. Apparently, that was cute enough to get him a kiss.

It would surely be fine, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my 10th attempt at writing for this fandom and the first good omens fic that i decided to share.  
> I'm super unsure if I did a good job or not, all feedback is appreciated :3


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